


'I Swear I Never Lie,' Said the Spider to the Fly

by evening_coffee



Series: Who Goes Up the Winding Web [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Hypnotism, Mind Control, Spiders, The Web Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives), Web!Martin, just web stuff in general, probably, the podcast aint over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_coffee/pseuds/evening_coffee
Summary: Annabelle claims she can help Martin save Jon and return the world to its original state, but she's asking for something in return. Martin then has to make a difficult decision, made all the more difficult since he can't trust his own thoughts and feelings with Annabelle around.
Series: Who Goes Up the Winding Web [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203971
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	'I Swear I Never Lie,' Said the Spider to the Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Recent episodes inspired me to come up with this Web set piece, so I decided to post a fic about it.

“Welcome home!” Annabelle said mockingly as she opened the door to the house on Hilltop Road. 

Martin looked inside, glanced at Annabelle, and let out a shaky and nervous chuckle. “Huh, wow you’ve really um...” he gulped audibly despite trying to keep his composure, “you’ve really decorated the place.” 

_Don’t look scared don’t look scared don’t look scared_ . _That’s what she wants. I have to keep doing this of my_ own _free will. I want to be here. I’m doing this to save the world. I’m doing this for Jon..._

The room in front of him was dark and cluttered. As to be expected, spider webs were present in every corner and around every visible door frame. Each one was crawling with grotesque arachnids; all of which were feeding on large insects. Martin could almost hear the blood draining from all of the flies that found themselves stuck and struggling against the thin silver threads. 

But what stood out even more was what hung from the ceiling. 

Hooks suspended by strings made it almost impossible to see what was right in front of him. They varied in length and size, with some looking industrial and some more akin to fishing hooks. All of them stood perfectly still. _Too_ still. It was as if they were laying in wait for their pray to get within range, to get comfortable, before they finally strike. 

“Well, then. Um...lead the way.” Marin gestured forward, but Annabelle shook her head in response. 

“You go first,” she said with a smile.

Martin started to nod his head in compliance, but before stepping forward, he turned to look at Annabelle with narrowing eyes. “No. I don’t want to. _You_ go first.” 

Annabelle’s smile widened significantly. “Very well, then.” Without hesitation, she walked into the house and began pushing her way through the hanging hooks. 

Martin sighed in relief. _Good. Good_ _good_ _good._ _You’re still the one in control, Blackwood. You don’t have to do anything she tells you to._ And with that, he followed her lead, trying to maintain his air of confidence. 

Said confidence was, of course, transparently false. 

As Martin walked through the curtains of hooks, chains, and strings, he felt a tad calmer. So far, none had moved independently or snapped into him, so they seemed less threatening. Though, that very well could have been a façade. 

Annabelle led him towards the dining room, and on the way, Martin noticed that some of the chains hanging from the ceiling were not attached to hooks, but instead to silver pocket watches. Those also varied in size and style, but they all had spiderweb designs carved on the opposite side of the clock face. 

“Ah, I see you’re going for a kind of ‘puppet-meets-hypnotist' aesthetic. Very nice. Very on brand.” Martin tried to keep his tone friendly, but given the circumstances and the nervousness he was failing to hide, it just came out sounding like sarcasm. 

Annabelle didn’t turn around or respond, so Martin just bit his lip and shut his mouth. 

After the two of them had pushed through the jungle of chains, they arrived at the dining room table. Annabelle politely pulled a chair out and gestured her hand toward it. “Come on. Sit.” 

“Ooooookay,” Martin said cheerfully. Without breaking eye contact with Annabelle, he pulled out his own chair at the opposite end of the table, and sat down defiantly. He looked smug as he crossed his arms, as if he had just outsmarted some masterful trick that Annabelle had tried to pull on him. 

In reality, all he’d done was sit in a different chair. 

Annabelle once again smiled, and Martin tried not to feel the condescension that radiated off of her as she sat down. “Alright,” she chimed, “let’s get into it, shall we?” 

Martin cleared his throat. “Okay—okay let’s get one thing straight. I’m here to hear your proposal. I have not _agreed_ to it yet, I might _never_ agree to it, and just so we’re clear, I still hate you, and I still don’t trust you. I just...I just care about saving humanity more than I care about hating you.” 

“How flattering,” she smirked. “And I’m assuming you also care about loving Jon more than you care about hating me?” 

Martin kept his arms crossed and his mouth closed, and only nodded in response. Answering that question felt vulnerable, and this was _not_ the place to feel vulnerable. 

Annabelle leaned forward. “Well, Martin, I’m going to be honest with you. And I mean _really_ honest, since I know how scared you are of being lied to. There is no way to save Jon. He’s The Archivist; he will either take his position as the pupil of The Eye, or be rendered powerless once it is destroyed.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t exactly know how his body and mind will react to that, but there’s no way he’ll just walk it off.” 

“Yeah, yeah I _know,”_ Martin ran his hand over his face. “We...we discussed this already. Me and Jon, I mean. I...I know that he’s not going to make it.” Martin puffed his chest and raised his shoulders. He took a deep breath to try and mask the sob that threatened to escape his throat. “But I want to stop the apocalypse, and I know that Jon becoming the pupil isn’t going to stop anything. Not really.” 

“Good boy!” Annabelle grinned, and both her tone and her face seemed cartoonishly patronizing. “It’s refreshing to meet someone with more than half a brain. If people could just appreciate the big picture instead of getting hung up on the little details, well then everyth—” 

“JUST TELL ME YOUR PROPOSAL ALREADY!” Martin was losing patience with her tone, her speech, and the eerie aura of Hilltop House. The scuttle of spiders and ticking of watches was already making it hard to think, and he _needed_ to think _._ He was on constant guard; monitoring his thoughts and feelings to make sure nothing seemed odd or out of place. 

Annabelle raised her hands in a mocking defence. “Alright, alright. Listen, it’s really not that complicated. You see, The Mother of Puppets liked the world as it _was._ It was simpler, easier to mold and shape, and the matrix of human interaction made for a much more interesting tapestry to weave. That’s not to say The Mother of Puppets doesn’t like the world as it _is,_ however. Domains are a treat, and they make the fear easier to farm. But the world itself—the big picture, if you will—is far more limited this way.” 

Annabelle left a long pause, presumably waiting for Martin to put the pieces together. 

He didn’t.

“So...what? You want to turn the world back, and you need my help for some reason?” 

Annabelle shook her head and popped her tongue. “Not quite. This isn’t a negotiation, it’s more of a bribe.” 

“A bribe? Wait, what exactly are you—” 

“Martin,” she interjected harshly. “I’m _saying_ that we don’t care which way the world is. Both work for us, but the old world is just _slightly_ more tantalizing. We have our own plans to make things ‘right’ again; to turn the world back into something you’re familiar with. We _could_ be persuaded to follow through with those plans, if you feel like cooperating.” 

Martin laughed out loud and then nodded his head aggressively. “Oh, mmhmm. Sure. Yup. That checks out. You’ve got some vague and mysterious plan that you won’t tell me about until I completely screw myself over by working with you? Oh, absolutely. Great deal. Anyways, I’ll be leaving now—” 

“Did you ever hear the statement of Anya Villette?” 

Martin froze in place as he was pushing away from the table. “Ummm...yeah. That one was the um, the cleaning lady, right?” 

Annabelle nodded. “Yes. Yes, it was.” 

She outlined the entire system and course of action as Martin sat patiently. By the end, Martin was stunned into silence. 

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “Well?” 

Martin shook his head quickly to clear his mind. “Well...okay? But I still don’t see how _I_ factor into this. What do I have to do with anything?” 

“Martin, I already told you; this is a _bribe._ The Mother of Puppets doesn’t have to do anything, but you could persuade her.” 

“ _How?”_

“We want _you,”_ Annabelle said as a wicked grin spread across her face. 

Martin’s eyes widened, and he shuddered before steadying his breathing. “So...you want me to become an avatar?” 

“Exactly. So, you’ll do it then?” 

“N—no wait! I didn’t say that. I was just asking a question.” Martin paused to collect his thoughts as he looked around the room. The hooks sat motionless, the spiders continued to scuttle, and the ticking of the watches was steady and consistent. “What...what does that mean? I mean—I know what it means. Just...what does it entail?” 

Annabelle’s grin began to fade. “Again, I’m going to be completely honest with you. After all, this has to be your decision, so don’t worry. I’m not going to force a ‘yes’ out of your mouth. Martin, it will hurt. It will hurt _tremendously,_ in both body and mind. The Web wants you to be a puppet; fully and completely.” 

Martin shivered and swallowed a down a large gulp. “Okay...and then what?” 

“That’s it,” Annabelle whispered. “But don’t worry, you’ll be a special case. I’d say almost equal parts victim and avatar. 'Servant,' if you will. Your mind and desires will be altered so drastically that you’ll probably enjoy your roll here. It’s only in rare moments of lucidity that you’ll truly long for death.” 

Martin gripped his chair tightly as beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead. “Oh, well then...” He glanced at the kitchen door where a large fly was attempting a futile struggle against his captor's web. Of course, it ceased its resistance when the spider began to feed on it. The fly became limp and docile; completely powerless at the hands of the spider. 

“What’ll it be Martin? You can ‘save the world,’ or you can have your freedom, but you can’t have both.” 

“I um...I thought you said earlier that you wouldn’t force me to do anything?” 

“I said I wouldn’t force you to say _yes,”_ she hissed, “but afterwards, you’re free game. Honestly Martin, I’m being very kind to you. All avatars have to choose their path, but most involve far more...” she paused and tapped her fingers on the table as she searched for the right word. “Coercion. Prentiss didn’t _want_ to be a vessel for Corruption, but she _chose_ it’s love over her body. Jon didn’t _want_ to be a voyeuristic monster, but he _chose_ life as an avatar over death as a human. I _wanted_ to avoid spiders as much as possible for many years and, well,” she proceeded to open six extra eyes that had been completely invisible until that very moment, causing Martin to recoil and almost topple out of his chair. “I’m giving you a fair choice, Martin. We’ll only tamper with those pesky ‘wants’ after the fact.” 

“I—uh...” He wanted to say ‘yes,’ obviously. He was scared. He was _beyond_ scared, but he knew that his own comfort wasn’t worth the eternal suffering of seven billion people. Plus, when he pictured himself painfully straining against a spider web, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the mental image of Jon in the pupil of the eye. 

_But..._ he thought, _but what if that’s what she_ wants _me to think? Even if I assume she’s telling the truth and not putting the idea in my brain, what if she’s just manipulating me the_ _old-fashioned_ _way?_

_This is a bribe but...who’s being bribed? Am I bribing The Web by offering myself to get them to help me? Or are they bribing me_ _by saving the world in exchange for my free will?_

The ticking clocks seemed louder and more distracting than before. There was a time crunch; a pressure that Martin had fabricated without even realizing he’d done it. 

_She’s being honest, though. She’s not making this sound appealing just to get me to agree with her. But, then again, if she did try to sugar coat all of the bad stuff, would I believe her? Probably not. She’s only telling me this stuff to make it believable. Hell, maybe it won’t even be as bad as she’s_ _descri_ _—WAIT no_ _no_ _no_ _no_ _no_ _NO_ _that is a BAD thought. Do NOT start thinking ‘oh boy, being part of The Web won’t be so bad!” That is almost DEFINITELY her compelling me. Or...even if it’s not, it’s still her playing...”_

Martin’s train of thought was beginning to melt off of the tracks. What had he wanted again? What was the right answer? What did he _think_ he should do?

In that brief moment of confusion, Martin became very aware of the nuanced sounds that continued to surround him. That soft yet steady ticking of all of the watches was in unison, but with the smallest sliver of fractured seconds separating the sounds like a subtle ripple; signalling their individuality. They all continued to sit perfectly still or...did they? Was Martin imagining it, or were they starting to sway? 

The spiders that had previously sounded hurried and frantic now appeared slow and deliberate in their movements, and their webs seemed to shine more than they had before. 

“What...do I want?” Martin said listlessly. He felt as though his thoughts were swimming through molasses, and hadn’t even realized he was speaking out loud. 

Annabelle nodded compassionately, and reached over to place her hand under Martin’s chin before his jaw went completely slack. “Martin,” she whispered, “do you want to save the world?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you be willing to sacrifice your freedom for it?” 

Martin paused for only a moment, and groggily remembered that, yes, that was his very first thought. That was what he wanted to do. “Yes.” 

The intense sound of metal and string whipping through the air broke Martin out of his trance. Before he could even speak, two of the larger hooks had clamped onto his wrists and abruptly closed themselves in order to cuff him. They tightened to the point of icy pain, as did the hooks that jumped towards his ankles. 

Smaller ones pierced into the joints on his arms and legs, and by this point Martin found he could scream in both pain and despair. He looked at Annabelle; his eyes blazing in hatred, while she looked on with both pity and contentment. 

Wincing through the pain, Martin forced a grin onto his face. “I win,” he said with pride. “This is what I wanted. I wanted to help.” 

Annabelle nodded. “I know you did.” 

Martin refused to overthink the gesture, for now he was keenly aware that she was relishing in his paranoia. 

His moment of victory was cut short as tiny fishing hooks slashed into his lips and eyelids; each bringing another shot of intense pain as they breached his skin. He was so distracted by the pain that he almost didn’t notice what came next. 

Almost. 

Martin could feel something moving through his veins and stemming from the entry points where the hooks had punctured him. At first, he thought it was a liquid; some sort of poison or drug. But as the feeling began to creep up towards his head, he felt the faint pitter-patter of tiny eight-legged creatures moving through his body. 

But he didn’t have time to properly react, for once the spiders reached his brain, they began to coat it in their hastily woven webs. They ensnared every thought and impulse that they could reach, until the bulk of Martin’s mind could be pulled and manipulated by their threads. 

The hooks on his body all disappeared into thin air, but their influence remained. Martin no longer cared about the pain, though. His head was foggy, and he only held two primary concerns: 

1) He had to change the world back to normal. He had to save humanity, and stop Jon from becoming the pupil. 

2) He had to serve The Mother of Puppets. 

And that was okay. 

Annabelle’s joy was being slowly depleted and replaced with genuine pity. “I’m sorry, Martin. I know this is strange, but we’re going to make good on our promise. I told no lies during this exchange, and I swear that you made this decision of your own free will."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are appreciated.


End file.
